Covenant
by Rhondda Lake
Summary: Mulder and Scully must learn to deal with some changes in thier partnership.


From rhonilak@icontech.com Thu May 29 18:37:59 1997 Subject: NEW:(1/4)Covenant NC-17 MSR, Angst From: Rhondda Lake  -------- 

Disclaimer: Awwww... come ON... you know the drill. 

Category: S, A, MSR 

Rating: NC-17 

Summary: Mulder and Scully have to come to terms with some changes... 

Timeline: It breaks from the real X-Files timeline just before Leonard Betts. I got enough to deal with in this one without the events following that one. 

Author's notes: I want to thank the Rhino Readers (Deb, Nancy, Mary, Carolyn) the wonderful group who usually beta read for me. Also everyone who volunteered to do a 'test reading' beta type thing on the X-Files Romantics Mailing list. And lastly to Miki Akimoto, the absolutely marvelous Beta Reader/Editor who got stuck with me from THE BETA READER'S CIRCLE. (If you are a writer and have not availed yourself of the free service, please do. It's wonderful, helpful and informative. To submit your story for beta reading send a request to klietz@ford.com ) You have no idea how nerveous I am about posting this one, folks. 

The song "Who Wants to Live Forever" quoted before each part is by Queen. The lyrics are by Brian May. Copyright 1986. 

Covenant by Rhondda Lake (part 1/5) 

There's no time for us, There's no place for us, What is this thing that builds our dreams Then slips away from us? Who wants to live forever? --------------------------------------------- 

The car door slammed closed. "I can't do this anymore, Mulder." 

The driver turned to look at the woman currently buckling her seat belt. "I said I was sorry." 

"You're always sorry, Mulder. After the fact. But that doesn't keep you from running off on the wildest of fucking goose chases without so much as a word to me. I'm supposed to watch your back. I can't do that if I don't know where the hell your back is. I can't take you ditching me anymore." 

Mulder pulled out of the police station parking lot. "I ditch you because I don't want you to get hurt. Because you ARE my backup, and I need to know you're there to pull me out if I get caught. Like last night." His tone and his posture were defensive. They had had arguments about this before, but for some reason Scully's tone struck him as different. More... ominous. Maybe it was the fact that Scully was swearing. She only swore when she was truly upset and couldn't find any other outlet for her emotions. 

"I can't take another two a.m. call asking me to come get you out of jail... what if the next call is from the morgue? I can't do it, Mulder. This is it. I've placed all my trust in you, but you obviously don't trust me as much as you claim to." Dana Scully didn't sound so much angry as hopelessly sad and disappointed. 

"That's not true." He drove up the entrance ramp to the highway. "I trust you more than anyone. More than myself." 

"You think you do, but you don't. If you trusted me you'd tell me where you were going and why. You'd trust me to come with you. It isn't trust you feel, it's dependence. I'm there, but only when it's convenient to you." Her voice was tight and her eyes were bright with tears she refused to allow to fall. "I can't be your fucking tissue anymore. I can't handle this, being used then tossed aside. This was the last goddamn time." 

Mulder took a deep breath. He honestly hadn't realized she'd seen it like that. "I don't use you, Scully. If you feel like this... why'd you come? Why'd you bail me out?" Please don't let this be leading where it felt like it was. He was a screw up, he knew that. But he didn't know if he could handle fucking up this relationship. Not true. He knew damn well he couldn't. Life without Scully was no life at all. 

She sighed. A small, tired sound. "Why do I do it? Because if you're dependent then I'm co-dependent. I just realized on the drive up here that I have to break the cycle. It isn't healthy, for either of us." 

"Would it help if I promised never to ditch you again?" Mulder divided his attention between her and the road. 

"Not really. You'd mean it as you made the promise, but for a man with a photographic memory you have convenient lapses. You'd forget you'd made the promise when the next dead end lead came around. You'd forget until you were half way to God-knows-where doing God-knows-what and then decide not to upset me by calling and telling me I'd been ditched again." 

Mulder felt his own anger rising. "You have it all figured out, don't you?" he spat. 

"I know you too well. And sometimes that frightens me." She turned from him, looking out the window at the blur of passing scenery. 

"So... what? Are you asking for a transfer?" Mulder gripped the wheel, feeling it dig into his palms. Please no, he silently willed. This can't be happening. He was doing it again. Screwing up. Losing her again. And this time he had no one to blame but himself. 

"I don't know. The X-Files have become my life as well, Mulder. I've dedicated everything to our work. I've lost so much to it. I don't know. Do I need a change? Do I need to get out now when there's still a slight chance I can? CAN I allow myself to get out? I don't know. But I do know I can't handle you running off into the sunset anymore." She was looking at her hands folded daintily into her lap. She sounded... tired. Defeated. Alone. 

"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that," he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?" 

She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?" 

XXX THREE MONTHS LATER 9:05 PM 

The soft clicking of the needles was the only sound in the room. A steady rhythm of sound and flashes of movement that wove a pattern of the sea green yarn. 

Angie Hagenboum stopped the needles when she saw she had a visitor. 

"Hello. Oh my, looks like you've had a bad day." She went back to her knitting, but focused half her attention on the young man before her. He was very handsome. Tall and athletic. His dove gray suit was immaculately pressed, and his tie was enough to make her dizzy. He also looked completely, miserably depressed. 

"You could say that." He sighed and sat in the Victorian chair beside hers. "She still won't talk to me, or acknowledge I exist." 

Angie nodded. "It's hard for her too, Fox. These things take time. Persistence is the key." 

Angie had gotten to know Fox Mulder better in the past two months. She knew him for the longest time only as 'Dana's young man'. She'd seen him coming and going from her neighbor's apartment at the oddest hours. But recent events being what they were... well, Fox needed a friend. Having nowhere else to turn, she'd invited him in. 

"Mom, who're you talking to?" The voice came from the next room. Angie's daughter, Donna. Angie had to live with Donna since the younger woman became convinced she could no longer care for herself. 

"Dana's young man, dear. Nothing to fret about." 

There was a silent moment. "Ooookay, mom. I thought you were talking to Dad again." 

"No, he is running an errand. I'll tell him you asked about him though." 

Angie looked sadly at Fox. The young man had winced at Donna's innocent questions. 

"Sometimes they never give in, do they?" 

Angie sighed. "No. Sometimes they don't. But I think your Dana will. She's aware of more than she wants to admit. I think you'll eventually get through to her." 

"She's having trouble, Mrs. Hagenboum. She's in pain. This is hurting her more then I ever dreamed it would. It... it hurts to see her like this." 

The old woman nodded sagely. It appeared as if each deep line on her face marked a point of wisdom she'd gained. "I know it does. Did you ever think you might be making things worse? Maybe you should just let things be." 

He shook his head. "I can't. I can't let it end like this." Mulder ran a hand through his hair. 

Three months ago he'd never have dreamed of sharing so much of himself with anyone. Especially Scully's eighty-three year old neighbor. But times changed, and everyone needed someone to talk to eventually. 

"But... it has ended. It's your own stubborn nature that won't let it rest." 

Mulder laughed. "Is that what you tell your husband?" 

"George has been stubborn from the day I met him." Angie's eyes twinkled. "It was half the attraction." 

"Mom?" Donna appeared in the doorway of the living room. "I'm gonna go down to the store and pick up some bread and milk. Will you be ok here alone?" 

Angie smiled sweetly at her daughter. "Of course I will, darling." 

Donna sighed. The Alzheimers hadn't noticeably advanced, but her mother still suffered from it. Unable to live in the present. In her confusion she often made things up. It was only a short trip. Twenty minutes at the most. Donna decided her mother was well enough to trust alone for that long. 

XXX 

11:32 PM 

Dana tossed in her bed. Under her lids her eyes moved rapidly. 

//"I promise." 

Pain. Unbearable agony ripping through her. Her body a mass of torment, her soul torn apart. NO! Nonononononono! 

"Hold on. Breath. Fight." The voice, Mulder's voice, in her ears or in her head. "Hang on. I promise. You're going to make it." 

"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that," he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?" 

She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?"// 

She whimpered into the darkness. Dreaming. Remembering. Unable to tell where one ended and the other began. It didn't matter. Dream or memory, it was still a nightmare. 

//"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that," he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?" 

She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?" 

"Yes. I swear. I won't ditch you again." 

Scully wasn't sure if she could believe it. Should she give him one more chance? 

She sighed and looked out the windshield.// 

She moaned and tossed against the sheets. Her hands grasping at the emptiness. Trying to hold back time. Hold back the past. Hold back the inevitable. 

//She sighed and looked out the windshield. The truck in the other lane was cutting ahead of them. They weren't slowing down. Her peripheral vision detected Mulder still focusing on her. 

"MULDER, LOOK OUT!" 

Pain. Unbearable agony ripping through her. Her body a mass of torment, her soul torn apart. NO! Nonononononono! 

"Hold on. Breath. Fight." The voice, Mulder's voice, in her ears or in her head. "Hang on. I Promise. You're going to make it." 

"I promise I won't ditch you anymore Scully. I know you don't trust that." He spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?"// 

She sat bolt upright in her bed, biting back a scream. 

She felt the cold, sticky sweat on her body and shivered against it. Carefully she swung her legs out of the bed. 

She'd only been out of the casts for three weeks. Her strength was returning, though. She could walk. She could breathe. Her punctured lung was just a painful memory and a disfiguring scar from emergency surgery. The doctors told her she'd make a full recovery, and she had. Physically. 

He'd left her. That son of a bitch left her after the accident. He'd promised, he'd sworn to her he wouldn't leave her again. So what did he do? He turned right around and left. And it hurt. A great ripping hole torn through her heart. He'd shredded her emotions to confetti and tossed them to the wind. Half of her cursed him for a coward, even as the other half howled combined rage and desolation. 

She started back at work tomorrow. To face the looks. The pity. The pain. 

The empty office. It was hers alone now. 

She clutched her pillow to her chest and let the tears come. In the dark. In private. Where no one could see them. 

There's no chance for us, It's all decided for us, This world has only one sweet moment Set aside for us. Who wants to live forever? 

Who dares to love forever... When love must die? ------------------------------------------- THE FOLLOWING MORNING 8:03 A.M. 

Dana Scully walked into the J. Edgar Hoover building with her head held high, and her heart about even with her toes. 

Her mother had called her in the morning to try and talk her out of going in. To give herself more time. 

There would never be time enough. 

She ignored the looks, the eyes that followed her. She felt her stomach turn to lead, however, when Agent Henderson walked up to her with a long face. 

"Agent Scully... I am so sorry..." 

"Thank you. I'm fine." Her answer was automatic and it was all she could do to not shove the other woman aside and flee to the sanctuary of the basement. If it was a sanctuary. 

Her heels clicked against the floor as she strode further down the hall. 

She should have known luck was against her. If there was such a thing as fate, she was now the focus of its cruelty. 

"Agent Scully, can I see you for a moment?" 

AD Skinner's voice ripped through the walls of iron she was erecting to shield herself. 

Not him. She could handle anyone but him. Because she trusted him. Mulder had trusted him. Confidences were given and taken. 

She turned to face him and nodded. He held the door to his reception area open for her. She proceeded him into his empty office. 

"Please, have a seat." 

She sat in the chair she usually occupied. She was almost surprised not to see Mulder occupying the other seat. She looked at it, the empty chair, for three full seconds before directing her full attention on Skinner. 

He hadn't missed it. 

"I'm not so sure this isn't too soon. Agent Scully, you've just suffered a terrible..." 

"I know what I've suffered, sir. I also know what I need. I need to return to work. To carry on. I need to continue. If I don't... I'll just stop." She shook her head, holding it in. Keeping it locked down. "Do you know that if a shark stops swimming, it drowns? I have become a shark. I have to pursue M... Mulder's goals. If I don't... there is nothing left. It will have become the last failure. The final letdown. I cannot let him down again." 

Skinner leaned forward, his hands together on his desk. This wasn't any easier on him. "Scully, I do not believe you ever let Agent Mulder down." 

"Excuse me, sir," she stood and turned to leave, "but the chair is empty." 

"And that's not your fault. There is nothing you could have done to prevent that. I admire your persistence, Agent Scully. But don't forget yourself. Don't become Mulder. It would serve no purpose." 

The elevator was comfortingly empty. 

She hesitated at the office door. Her fingers traced the nameplate. She was glad it hadn't been removed yet. Taking a deep breath, anticipating the pain, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

She flipped on the light switch and crossed the short distance to the desk. His desk. Her's now. With exaggerated care she sat in the worn seat. She turned, her eyes taking it all in as if for the first time. 

This had been his domain. Now she could do with it as she pleased. Maybe take out some of her anger by actually alphabetizing his atrocious filing system, or putting some of the stacks of files in some order, or even organize the books in here. He had been able to get up and find a book or reference from any of the piled junk accumulated on any and all flat surfaces. She didn't have the blessing of his photographic memory. 

*No one down here but the FBI's most unwanted.* 

*Actually I'm looking forward to working with you.* 

*Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?* 

Her eyes focused on that damned poster. I WANT TO BELIEVE. 

The tears began to flow, silently. She cursed her own weakness. "I don't want to believe, Mulder. Not this." 

* 

Fox Mulder watched her enter the office. She looked stiff, stoic, patently false. 

He reached out for her, but as always, in the last three months he couldn't touch her. He wanted to offer comfort. 

"Come on, Scully. I'm still here. Look at me. I'm right here. I promised I wouldn't ditch you." 

She didn't even look up. Her silent tears tore at his heart. She was so strong. He'd rarely seen her cry. That the tears were for him was unbearable. 

"I'm right here." His voice broke and he backed away. 

This was torture. She wouldn't see him. She chose not to, and it hurt. Her disbelief had indeed come between them at last. He'd done his half. More. He was here. He refused to leave. But she was refusing him, refusing to see him. Refusing to believe he could have kept his promise. Extreme possibilities. She wasn't open to this one. It was a betrayal. 

She was destroying them. Her unwillingness to trust her heart, the bond between them... HIM. She didn't trust HIM to be here. 

"Right here." He backed toward the door, and acknowledging the coward within himself, he fled. 

* 

*Right here.* The words were a whisper. A memory? It was Mulder's voice. 

Scully sniffed and wiped at her eyes. Auditory hallucinations, no doubt brought on by stress. It was almost to be expected that she'd think she heard him here. Here more than his apartment. Here, where his essence was. When she'd walked in, she even thought she could feel his presence. That if she just turned around fast enough he'd be standing right there. If she gave into that irrationality she'd spin around like a dervish, seeking oblivion to catch a glimpse. 

But he wasn't here. He hadn't spoken. Fox Mulder would never speak to her again. She lost herself in the memory. 

XXX 

THREE MONTHS PRIOR 

"I promise I won't ditch you anymore, Scully. I know you don't trust that," he spat angrily, "but I promise. Can't you at least give me a chance?" 

She looked up at him, her eyes demanding his attention. "I don't know. Can I?" 

"Yes. I swear. I won't ditch you again." 

Scully wasn't sure if she could believe it. Should she give him one more chance? 

She sighed and looked out the windshield. The truck in the other lane was cutting ahead of them. They weren't slowing down. Her peripheral vision detected Mulder still focusing on her. 

"MULDER, LOOK OUT!" 

Pain. Unbearable agony ripping through her. Her body a mass of torment, her soul torn apart. NO! Nonononononono! She was falling... falling... 

She couldn't breathe. One side of her chest felt heavy. Blood was clouding her vision and agony ripped up her legs, her chest. Legs broken, she realized. Couldn't breathe. Collapsed lung? Puncture? Mulder! Where was Mulder? 

"Hold on. Breath. Fight." The voice, Mulder's voice, in her ears or in her head. "Hang on. I promise. You're going to make it." 

There he was. OK. She'd hold on. She could trust him. He made a promise. He'd keep it. All of them. She'd give him another chance. Didn't she always? Her biggest weakness was Fox Mulder. I'm just a girl who can't say no... she mentally sang to herself. She'd forgive him. She already had. She'd tell him...once the darkness went away. 

She awoke in an ICU. She gagged on the tube down her throat. A nurse was there instantly. Nurses and doctors poked and prodded. They removed the tube, but Scully let consciousness leave her again. 

The second time she awoke she saw her mother sitting next to her, holding her hand. 

"Mom?" Was that her voice? So thin and weak. 

"I'm here, Dana. You had quite an accident." Maggie Scully tried to smile, but failed. 

"How bad?" 

"You were in surgery for three hours. You broke three ribs and one had punctured your left lung. Both of your legs are broken. But they have you on codeine. I bet you're not feeling much pain." 

"No..." Her throat was sore, ragged. The tube most likely scraped it raw. "How's Mulder?" 

Her mother's face froze, and Dana saw the shine of unshed tears. "Rest now, honey. The doctor said you need your rest." 

"Mom?" 

"Later. Just rest now." 

The codeine carried her away. When she awoke next it was to face her mother and a doctor. 

"Mom... I have to know. Where's Mulder? He must be in pretty bad shape if you keep avoiding me." 

Her mother folded her hands under her chin, as if in prayer, and closed her eyes. The doctor stepped forward. 

"Miss Scully, the driver of the car you were in... Mr. Mulder... was killed on impact. Your car hit an eighteen wheeler. I can promise you... he didn't suffer. He most likely never even felt it." 

No! Nononononononono. It was a lie. It was a trick. It was a twisted joke. 

He couldn't be dead. Not from something as stupid, as prosaic as a car accident. It was laughable. She wanted to cry. She did. 

Her last words to him had been in anger. An argument. Oh God. It had been the argument that had distracted him. She had killed him. 

She'd been in and out of consciousness for five days. She never even got to attend his funeral. 

In mere seconds, her world lost its focus. She was torn in half. Half of herself was missing. It was this. The soul deep feeling of loss. The very absence of... something... that allowed to know and accept the truth. Fox Mulder was dead. How could she go on living? 

It was fitting she had missed his funeral. She'd been his killer. His executioner. Could she look his mother in the face and offer her condolences? No. Not when she was the one to put him in the ground. She'd done the job she'd been sent to do without intention. 

XXX 

Angie Hagenboum finished planting the pansies in the side yard. Ten years ago George used to help her with the gardening. Now he pretty much watched her do it and offered advice. 

"Maybe you should plant an azalea in that corner." 

Angie snorted. "George, you've been trying to get me to plant an azalea there for eleven years now. The sun is wrong for one there. Let it drop already." 

She looked up when she sensed the second presence with her. 

"Hello, Fox. Oh dear. It didn't go well, did it?" 

"I had to get out of there. She was crying. She was crying and I couldn't do anything about it." 

"Unless she chooses to see you, you can't. You're dead, son. Live with it." George Hagenboum patted Mulder on the shoulder. 

"George! This is serious. Go pester a cat or something. Come on inside, Fox. I'd offer you a nice cup of tea but... well, you get the picture." Angie took Mulder's arm and led him towards the apartment she shared with her daughter. 

"How come you can see me? How do you do that?" He moved his arm in her grip. 

"Because I was born able to see the stubborn idiots who refuse to move on. And because, as my daughter would most likely tell you... I'm insane. Alzheimer's you know. I live in the past. Can't accept my husband's death, all that happy horseshit. Funny combination, don't you think?" 

Mulder sank down into the Victorian chair again. "I'm kinda new at this. At first I tried to deny it. I mean I saw Scully in trouble and told her to hang on, tried to help her. Then I saw myself. I'd seen enough bodies in my life. The sight of myself crumpled up in that wreckage..." He shivered. "I went into immediate denial. Then I tried to stay with Scully when the ambulance came. To talk to her, the EMT's... they couldn't hear me. I tried to grab one guy and my hand passed through him. I'd never been so scared in my life. It took a while for it to sink in, you know. And when it did... I just had to explore, to see what it was like. I thought... maybe this was what the afterlife was all about." 

"Hardly. Ninety-five percent of the deceased move on immediately. The other five percent are bound by ties stronger than life, bound by honor, or are just too damn stubborn to accept death." 

"So what happened to me?" His eyes were sad and lost. 

"I think all of the above." 

"I think I'm in Hell. For months I've been trying to reach her. But she can't... or won't... see me. You said she had the ability if she'd only let herself." 

"And she hasn't yet. So you are going to have to rely on something other than sight at first." Angie began to put sugar on a piece of toast, absently. 

"What? She can't hear me, either." 

"The strongest force in this world, or any other, is what we feel. You've suppressed your emotions for so long it's difficult for you. However, to have any influence on the physical world you must feel strongly about it." 

Angie took a bite of her toast and looked at it strangely. She shrugged and took another bite. 

"I felt strongly this morning, Angie. And it didn't work. Nothing." Mulder ran his thumb along his jaw. "So what else can I do?" 

"Nothing. Now it's up to her." Angie ignored her teacup and drank the milk out of the creamer. 

But touch my tears With your lips. Touch my world with your fingertips, And we can have forever. And we can love forever. -------------------------------------- 

Scully dropped her keys on the table beside the door and shrugged out of her suit coat. The day had been as bad as she had dreaded. Hopefully it would get easier. There were a few cases she had looked over, and was considering investigating a rash of drowning suicides along the Florida coast. Twenty eight people with no previous signs of distress, no notes, no warning, just walked into the ocean over a five month period. Florida would be nice. Sunny, warm, and far away from here. 

It had been hard to pick a case. Mulder usually did that. She'd tried to imagine his comments on each file she'd looked over. It had felt... wrong. 

She sat down on her couch and stared blankly at nothing. It had been a supreme effort to get out of bed each morning. She was so tired all the time, short tempered, and it hurt. It hurt to breathe, to move, to feel her heart beat. Not a physical pain. Nothing a few Tylenol could help. It was a pain that branded itself on her soul. She knew the signs. Clinical Depression. Maybe she would prescribe herself some Prozac. But would it make the pain go away or just make her THINK it had gone? Did it matter? 

So much had been left undone. So much unsaid. Damnit. She had never told him how she felt. She'd always assumed he knew. She assumed that their eyes spoke what their mouths never had. But had he? Had he really known? Especially when the last thing she had said to him was tantamount to a threat of leaving. An accusation of a lack of trust. And despite the anger his last words were a plea for her to stay. Not to go. 

But she wasn't the one who left. She bit her bottom lip. She would not cry again. She had wept more in the past three months than she had in the last three years. It was unacceptable. 

As she had lain in the hospital, after the accident, after learning he was gone, she'd not felt like eating. So she hadn't. The IV would be enough. She didn't want to talk about it. So she didn't. She didn't want to face anyone or anything. So she hadn't. It was her mother who forced her into recovery. 

"I am not going to let you do this, Dana. I'm not going to sit here and watch you will yourself to die. You are alive. I have to believe that you're alive for a reason. You survived. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that he didn't. It hurts me too, though I realize not near as much as it hurts you. But you told me once you were willing to die for him. Were you?" Maggie Scully took hold of her daughter's chin and forced her to look at her. 

Dana couldn't nod, held so, so she was forced to answer. "Yes. Of course I was." 

"And you think that's brave? To die for someone's easy. One moment of decision and it's over. Now you have to be really brave, Dana. You have to be willing to live for him. You have to be willing to do what he can't. To live. 

"It's almost spring. You have to be willing to walk through a garden of spring flowers and appreciate their beauty, that you can look at it, because he can't. You have to do the living for both of you." Maggie swallowed hard and released her daughter's chin, aware of the red marks she'd left on her flesh. "Otherwise you are throwing away all he meant to you. All he would have wanted to do." 

She had hated that her mother was right. Hated the truth in those words. Hated that she had to go on because of them. But she had. She ate. She healed. She went to therapy to build up the strength to walk. She decided to carry on the quest. She determined that she would find out what happened to Samantha for him. Because she was alive and owed him as much. 

But what caused the most pain, what made it so hard to accept... was she could almost feel him nearby. There were times she could swear she smelled him. Memories superimposing themselves on the present. 

A single silent tear escaped. Only one. Crystalline, it sparkled as it slid down her cheek. 

* 

Mulder sat in the chair across from her, watching her disappear into her own mind. God, it hurt. He wanted to tell her he was here. He wanted to hold her and make the pain go away. He wanted to tell her he loved her, as he never had in life. 

He'd always thought he had time. He always just assumed she knew. 

He saw the tear caress her cheek as he could not, and feeling such a surge of love and sadness he reached out to wipe it away, without thought. 

He was startled when she flinched. 

* 

Something brushed her cheek. She instinctively flinched back. It had been warm and light. For a second she thought a fly had gotten into the apartment. 

* 

She had felt him. He wanted to dance for joy. Some part of her knew he was here. As Angie has said, she was able to sense more then she would admit. 

What had he done differently this time? Feelings. Yes. He'd let his love reach out. 

He tried it again. He reached out and touched her arm. 

* 

That was no fly. She jumped up. Was she going insane? Something had touched her. It had felt like a hand. But no one was here. Too much... she'd pushed too hard and too fast. She was tired. Overstressed. Her mind was playing tricks on her. 

Her eyes darted around the apartment. Nothing. Nothing there. She shivered and turned to head for her bedroom. Sleep. She needed sleep. 

* 

It was and was not working. She felt him, yes, but it was scaring her. How could he let her know it was him? Without words, only by touch... how? Then it came to him. 

* 

Half way down the hall she felt another touch. A gentle pressure at the small of her back. It was a gesture, a touch she was intimately familiar with. A touch she knew as well as her own name. 

She stiffened and turned. It was impossible. It was insane. 

"Mulder?" 

No flashy special effects, no fading in or out. When she turned around he was simply... there. 

"It's about TIME." A voice she'd never thought to hear again danced joyously in her ears. 

Dana Scully proceeded to do something she had never in her life done before. She fainted dead away. 

XXX 

She awoke in her bed. Oh God, what a dream. 

"Feeling better?" 

She jumped up and scrambled back on her bed until her back was against the headboard. 

"Ohmigod. I'm going nuts. I've finally cracked." 

"No, actually you're just beginning to see clearly." His lopsided grin pulled at her heart, at her soul. He sat on her bed, dressed in a dove gray Armani and a paisley tie. If she could ignore the faintly glowing blue aura, she might think the last three months were a mistake. 

"This isn't happening. You're dead. I know you're dead." 

"Death is very liberating. I've got to tell you some of the things I've seen, but not now. This is happening, Scully. I promised you I wouldn't ditch you again. You didn't believe me." 

Scully reached out a shaking hand, and touched his shoulder. "But you're real... you're solid. I can feel you." 

Mulder nodded. "That's because you now know I'm here and at least part of you accepts it. You are talking to me after all. I've been trying to get your attention for three months." 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, against the wall. "This is crazy. I should have known, if anyone in the world could come back from the dead to say 'I told you so' it would be you." 

"Well, technically I'm not back. I'm here... but not in any permanantly solid physicality. Angie thinks it's a combination of unfinished business, strong ties to the living, honor and stubborness." 

"You... you're a ghost?" Scully reached out again, touching his cheek. It felt smooth and warm and solid. 

He leaned in toward her. "Boo." 

"But ghosts aren't real." 

"In that case, you really are talking to a figment of your imagination and in serious psychological trouble. Except, you're not the only one who can see me." 

Scully blinked rapidly. "I'm not? Well, that will help me assure myself that I'm not suffering a lapse in sanity." 

"Angie Hagenboum has been talking to me, keeping me sane for the last three months." 

"Angie Hagenboum from next door?" Scully tucked her chin in and looked at her hands. "Great! Mrs. Hagenboum wandered outside in her underwear last winter. She has Alzheimer's. She talks to her dead husband." 

"Bingo. I've met George. Nice guy, sick sense of humor, though. Keeps standing behind his daughter making faces in an attempt to break Angie up while Donna's talking to her." Mulder grinned. 

"My sanity can be confirmed by a woman who tried to wear her table centerpiece to church as a hat? This does nothing to relieve my apprehension." 

"Tough. You're stuck with me. Now that you do see me you can't ignore me anymore. Well, you can, but you can't NOT see me." 

"You're telling me you plan on haunting me?" She actually looked worried. "Why?" 

"Haunting is such a negative term. I don't plan on banging on your walls at all hours of the night or making your sink drip blood." He touched her arm, trying to communicate how he felt. It wasn't easy. Even dead, talking to her about personal feelings wasn't easy. "I'm not about to leave you though. You didn't want me to ditch you. Now an exorcist couldn't get rid of me." 

"Why? Am I being punished?" 

"Do you consider me a punishment?" He looked as if she'd just slapped him. 

"No. Yes. I don't know. This isn't exactly easy to deal with." She buried her head in her hands. Call the men in the white coats. Dana Scully's having tea with the Mad Hatter. Clean cup! Clean cup! Move down! 

"Try it from my side. And you're actually handling this a hell of a lot better than I thought you would," he drawled. 

"Oh God, Mulder... I'm so sorry. I've regretted that stupid fight every second of every day for the past three months. I wouldn't have left. My God, I kiled you, Mulder. If it hadn't been fotr that stupid fight... if I hadn't been making ultimatums..." 

He shook his head. "You weren't responsible. I was. I was the one behind the wheel. I'm the one who wasn't paying attention to the road. It's because of me you were hurt. It's because of me you've been suffering. One thing about being dead, Scully, you have a lot of time to think. You were right. I was selfish and dependent. But it was more than that." He placed his fingers under her chin and turned her to face him. Glorying in the fact that he could, that he was able to touch someone besides Mrs. Hagenboum, and that person was his Scully. 

She tried to shake her head, to deny what she knew he was about to say when she had barely fought the idea of talking to his ghost. 

"Yes. I was an idiot. I kept thinking we had time. I was afraid. But you meant more to me than my own life. You mean more to me than death. I kept ditching you in the hopes you wouldn't get hurt. I hadn't realized that I was the one doing the hurting. I'm the one who's sorry, Dana. I... I love you. I have loved you for a long time now." 

She shoved him off the bed. OK, there were drawbacks to being a bit more corporeal then he had been. 

"You bastard! How dare you? How dare you show up here, tell me I'm seeing ghosts then tell me you loved me three months too late? When there's no chance of any kind of future for us? Jesus, even dead, you're a prick." He was dead. dead. It was a finality. She was going insane. Or dreaming. Either way this was getting to be too much. Too much for her to handle. 

Mulder picked himself up off the floor. "Because it isn't too late. I had thought it was, but it isn't. Because it's time to correct all the regrets I can. I regret not telling you. I can't go back and change that. But I have the opportunity to correct that now." 

"How can you correct it, Mulder? You're dead. You're Casper in an Armani. You ran out of time three months ago." 

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her up off the bed, giving her time to stand. "Can you feel that?" 

Her eyes filled with tears again. "Yes." 

He reached out with his other hand and cupped her cheek moved his hand to slide his fingers down the side of her throat, feeling her pulse beat beneath his fingertips. "Can you feel this?" 

She bit back a sob. "Yes." 

He pulled her close, feeling her pressed against him for the first time since... Congress. It felt wonderful. Being dead makes you bold, he thought. Just before he bent down to claim her mouth with his own. 

If either of them noticed his aura flare neither commented on it. He felt good and warm and solid and real. His lips were soft, yet demanding as he slanted his mouth over hers. His tongue tracing the outline of her lips, asking for entrance. She gave in. He tasted of coffee and sunflower seeds and himself. Wonderful. Real. He stole away her mind as he infused her body with desire. 

She'd wanted him for almost four years. She'd wanted to kiss him, to hold him. She'd fantasized about him. Yet she never gave in. Too many consequences. 

Now... now there were none. No consequences. Only herself, and him, and four years of yearning topped by three months of grief and regret exploded through her. If this was a dream the alarm clock better not go off. 

He pulled away, allowing her to breathe. "Did you feel that?" 

It took her a few seconds to find her voice. "Oh yeah." 

He smiled and bent down again, his mouth just millimeters from her own he spoke. She even imagined she could feel his breath on her face. "Then how can you say we have no future? It's unconventional, but when have we ever been conventional?" 

She could find no argument forthcoming as he kissed her again. 

Forever is our today. Who wants to live forever? Who wants to live forever? Forever is our today. Who has forever anyway? ---------------------------------------- 

Fox Mulder was dead. Fox Mulder had been dead for three months. Fox Mulder was also standing in her bedroom tormenting her as he never had in life. 

He was tasting her lips with his. Sampling the forbidden fruit and finding it unbearably sweet. 

Dana trembled as he deepened the kiss, his tip of his tongue lightly tracing the edges of her mouth. She moaned, wanting more. Needing more. If this was insanity she'd happily live surrounded by padded walls. Please pass the straight jacket. He softly suckled on her bottom lip. 

Finally she felt him move the kiss up in intensity. He molded her mouth to his, plunging his tongue deep within. Their tongues battled for dominance, sliding, twisting, entwining. Mulder won when she felt his hands trace the outline of her breasts. She moaned into his mouth. 

Without breaking the kiss he pulled her camisole from her pants and began to slide it up her body. He had to break the kiss to slip it over her head. 

Breaking the kiss gave her a few seconds to think. 

"Mulder..." 

"No excuses, Scully. I won't let you run away. Just answer yes or no. Do you want me?" 

"It's not that easy, it's..." 

"Yes or no. One word. Yes. Or no." He wasn't playing fair. Even as he asked he unclasped the front hook of her bra. Allowed his fingers to whisper over her flesh, to brush against her nipples as he pushed the bits of satin aside. 

She closed her eyes. Let it go. If it was a dream then there was no harm in dreaming. If it was real... then there was a ghost in her apartment, touching her breasts, trying to do what he hadn't in life. No rules to hold them back, no risk at all. Oh Lord, her life had just become one giant X-File. 

She felt his hands on her breasts and whimpered. At first weighing and measuring, seeming to note how they exactly fit to his hands, claiming them, claiming her. His hands and her breasts seemed made for one another. His thumbs, both demanding and gentle, brushed over her already taut nipples, sending shockwaves of sensation through her. 

"Yes or no, Scully?" 

She swallowed around the lump in her throat. 

"Yes." Her voice sounded rough, husky to her own ears. 

She became lost in a fog of sensuality. It was as if he had somehow pulled her within himself. On one level she felt him pull her close, felt the fabric of his suitcoat and shirt abrade her sensitive nipples, felt his lips brush along her throat. His hands touching, tracing, memorizing. Flowing over her ribs, following her spine, flowing over her buttocks to cup and pull her close. Oh my! Nothing spiritual about what she felt pressed against her. Yet on another, more profound level, she was surrounded by him, embraced by him, no part of her untouched by his essence. She was wrapped in a cocoon that WAS Fox Mulder. Warm and safe and protected. And loved. God, she could feel it, the emotion a charge that seeped into her bones. 

She could smell him, smell his hair, the faint hint of Polo, the warm, musky, male scent that was him alone. It was so real. Too real. No dream this. 

Then he was on his knees before her. His hands again on her breasts, framing them, cupping them, lifting them. Then his mouth, hot and wet and exquisite. First falling softly into the valley between her breasts, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, making her breath catch. She felt him undo the clasp and zipper of her pants, barely felt them and her underwear slide down her legs as his mouth fell on the underside of her breast, kissing, licking, his nose nuzzling her. 

His hands were at her back now, holding her to him as he finally took one rosy tip into his mouth. She cried out as her knees went weak, but he supported her, uplifted her, held her up and held her together. 

Desire was so thick it began to suffocate her with its weight. She was melting and pooling and drowning in it. Her hands clasped his head and she could feel the short, silky hairs tickle her palms. 

Did she want him, he had asked. It had gone far beyond want. She needed him. He was as essential to her as air, as food, as the very blood beating in her veins. 

Then she was being lifted and deposited, gently, on her bed. When he pulled back a bit she was surprised to see he too was now naked. 

"How'd you do that?" She asked even as her eyes drank in the sight, noticing the anomalies. No scars. She'd seen him naked before. She knew where each of his scars were. The ones across his ribs from a beast woman in New Jersey, the long, messy one on his inner thigh from a near fatal gunshot wound in their first year as partners, the one on his shoulder from the bullet she had delivered. Now there were none. 

His smile was slight and there was mischief in his eyes. "There are lots of things I can do." 

But he didn't stop to demonstrate. His hands and mouth were everywhere. She felt her own limbs grow heavy with the force of the desire he aroused in her. She worked against the leaden sensation, feeling the need to touch and taste in return. 

It seemed they explored for an eternity. Lost somewhere beyond time and space. Some place beyond life or death. An eternal place of joy where only they and the pleasure they brought existed. 

When at long last she felt him sheath himself inside of her she cried out with the perfect beauty of it. Nothing else mattered. Just him, her and the way they moved together. Each stroke touching not only her body, but her soul. And when she came the world shattered and fell around her. It was blinding in its intensity, deafening in its completion, agonizing in its perfection. 

She lay there, enveloped by him, being held, somehow, by more than his arms. Her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as it gradually slowed, as did her breathing. 

"Is this considered necrophilia?" She asked as his fingertips traced the surgical scar over her ribs. 

He teased her earlobe with his lips. His tongue traced the whorls of her ear. "I don't think so. I'm a ghost not a corpse. More along the lines of a spiritual visitation. Your own personal, non-threatening incubus." 

"I don't want this to end. I don't want to wake up." She gasped as his fingers traced idle patterns on her skin. 

"You're not dreaming, and I'm not going anywhere." 

XXX 

The morning sun filtered through the windows of the building. Mulder didn't bother to knock, but simply walked right through the door of Apartment 37. 

Scully had asked him to allow her some time to sort things out. She needed it. But he knew he wasn't about to let go, not now, not ever. 

He was shocked as he walked into the living room. The air was heavy with something. Neither good nor evil, just there. Ominous. Changing. 

Angie Hagenboum lay on the floor next to her chair. Her knitting lay half across her. Mulder rushed to her side. Her eyes kept shifting focus. 

"Hold on, Angie. I'm going to get Dana. Just hold on." 

Her hand grasped his arm, at first with strength, then just to lay against his limb. "No. It's time. Long past it." She smiled weakly. "I take it you got through to your young lady." 

Mulder was surprised to feel tears on his cheeks. "Yes. She's adjusting. I think everything is going to be all right." 

Angie smiled fully and he felt the other presence. Mulder turned to see George standing behind him. Not the seventy five year old George he was used to, but George as he must have been in his prime. Tall and athletic, blonde and tanned. 

"Angie, love, it's time." He held out his hand. "No more confusion." 

Mulder backed away. It wasn't a hand lined with age and swollen joints that grasped George's, but long, slender fingers, firm, supple flesh. 

Angie's spirit sat up and George helped her to her feet. 

She was beautiful. Young and vibrant and radiantly happy. 

She turned to Mulder and smiled. "It's OK, Fox. He's waited a long time for me. You may have to wait longer for Dana, but it'll be worth it." 

George winked at him and gathered his wife close. There was a blinding flash of light and a roaring in Mulder's ears. They were gone. 

"Mom?" Donna walked into the room. "MOM!" 

Mulder moved away as Donna fell to her knees beside her mother's lifeless body. "Mom... please." She cradled her head and stroked the wiry gray hair. 

Mulder left her to her grief. It was a thing for the living. He knew she would see her mother again some day. And the only tears he found were those of happiness, for his friend and her husband. 

XXX 

Dana Scully walked into the basement office with a much lighter step than when she had last left it. 

The office chair swung around and Mulder held up the file she'd been considering taking. "Florida? Sunny beaches? You in a bikini? When do we leave?" 

He was wearing jeans and a black turtleneck, not his suit. She frowned. He looked down at himself. "Hey, I don't HAVE to wear them anymore. Only you can see me." He grinned. 

"We leave tomorrow and if you think I'm getting into a bikini, you're out of your mind." She snatched the file from him and almost laughed at a passing thought. 

If the X-Files office really was under any kind of video surveillance Mulder was going to have the people watching her shitting in their pants. Objects floating around the room and self propelling chairs would keep them guessing for a good long time. She was still trying to figure out why he could only do it when in the presence of someone who could see him. There were lots of things they were going to have to figure out. 

"Have I told you I've been to this vault under the Pentagon that's holding almost every bit of evidence to ever go missing on us? I also followed Cancerman home and watched him key into his computer. I know half his passwords. Being dead definitely has its perks." He smirked. "I think we're about to give the Consortium hell." 

She couldn't help it. She laughed. She had to. It looked like she was stuck with him forever. And she didn't mind one bit. She loved him. Not many people dared to love forever. 

The end. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Feedback welcome. More then welcome. I need it. I crave it. My palms were sweating as I posted this puppy. 

I have two more stories following this twist in my head. Actual cases. Is there an interest? 

Rhoni The Purple Rhino 


End file.
